So Lonely Before
by LeneB
Summary: Orphan girl Sophia Haines has found peace at last within the walls of Hogwarts. Struggling not only with her troubled past and unsure future, but also, with herself, she is determined to get who she wants. Hufflepuff's Golden Boy.
1. Prelude to Poverty

**-1- Prelude to Poverty**

"- from the trolly, dear?"  
What's this annoying sound in the back of my head, and why does it sound like – for want of a better term – the trolley woman? I slowly lifted myself out of my comforting bubble and sat upright. Yawning, I faced Ms. Trolley. What else was I supposed to call her – Woman-who-likes-pushing-trolleys-in-big-red-trains? I think not. Besides, I like giving everyone and everything names. Beats not knowing, you see. Well, sometimes I don't know, and then I just give them random names, just so they'd have one. I imagine it'd be dreadful for one not to know their name, or worse: not to have one at all.

Realising Ms. Trolley was looking at me quizzically; I replied politely that I was in no need of sugary refreshments at the current time, thank you very much. And thus, she departed. What? I was brought up to be polite to people, even if they don't deserve it. For those of you with prodigious deductive skills, you may have also guessed I'm rather…thrifty.

In my opinion, being economical can be a good quality. There's no feeling guilty after buying a way too expensive handbag that'll probably get stolen within the next few weeks anyway. I mean come on now, I live in London, for Merlin's sake. Besides, I don't have any money to spend on overpriced luxury items anyway! I laughed out loud. Something I catch myself doing quite a lot, especially when I'm talking to myself – like now. Anyway, I'm just being realistic. Realism, another one of my character traits. I'm a realistic, polite penny-pincher. Now, what does that tell you about me? Indeed, it tells you I'm an orphan. Always have been, always will be. Admittedly, it might not tell you I'm an orphan, but hey, work with me here – I'm trying to tell a story!

I grew up in London - Fulham to be precise - in St. Jude's Home for Destitute Girls. Destitute. Sounds lovely, eh? Just the kind of word I'd want to be described with… Not. Our matron, Mrs. Sullivan, always used to tell me and the other girls how lucky we were, to have a roof over our heads and a meal every day – or at least once every three days.

What am I saying – used to? She still does, that wretched old hag. "She's not all bad," visitors would say. To which I'd think to myself: _"Oh, certainly, if you disregard the continuous coughing (you know the kind: like she's going to spew out her guts); the greasy, unkempt hair; the dishevelled clothes; the cruelty, and so on and so forth."_ In the end, though, who really knows? For all we know, there could be a perfectly lovable woman underneath her troll-like exterior. But I'd figure that, if anyone knew, it'd be me. After all, I've been living with her nearly my whole life. My life, or lack of one, has been going on for 17 years now. But let me tell you about the moment where I felt truly alive for the first time...


	2. Dear Miss Haines

**-2- Dear Miss Haines**

The sun had just come up on this particularly beautiful July morning. I rubbed my eyes as I got out of bed. Covering my mouth as I yawned, I started looking around at the silhouettes of the nineteen other girls. Some were awake, and looking at the ceiling; others were still cushioned in peaceful slumber. It wouldn't be long before Mrs. Sullivan would barge in and start shaking the others until they were up. Best to be prepared, I always thought. And sure enough, here came the Wicked Witch of the West, as I called her. True to character, and habit, she went over to the others and began shaking them like there was no tomorrow.

"Wake up, you useless heaps of human waste! Now!"

Let's just say subtlety isn't one of her strong points.

I scurried from under the starch sheets and set about hastily making my bed. Mrs. S. would be furious if I forgot one more time. There's no telling what that wretched woman would do"Go wash up," Sullivan ordered.

"Yes, Mrs. Sullivan," the sleepy girls murmured in unison.

Bitterly, I noticed my sense of smell hadn't deterred. Remarkable feat, if you take into account that I've been living in this ruddy hell-hole for 11 years now. The Wicked Witch makes us 'wash ourselves' with the same washcloth every morning. Of course, her definitions are just a tad askew. The crucial areas to be washed are the armpits, behind the ears and the face preferably not in that order. Hot baths are only allowed once a week.

After we washed up, we trudged down to the dining hall: a large, bare, grey-ish room with absolutely no fringes or pleasantries. Actually, that describes the whole building. All the necessities were there, but for me, none of those things could make St. Jude's feel like home. It missed a certain human touch. When I'm in bed, I often try to picture what my home would look like, if I had parents. To outsiders it might come across strange that, in fact, not all the girls at St. Jude's are orphans. Like my friend Alexandra's mum, she's still alive, but she lost her husband when Alex was three. Her mum doesn't have the money to take care of a child, hence the placement here. If I had children, I would do anything to give them a good home, anything to keep them from ending up here. This is no place for children. How contradictory does that sound? It's a bloody orphanage! The humour of the situation does not escape me. Good ole sense of humour!

Before we could enter the dining hall, we had to show our hands to the orphanage nurse. Woe to those who had dirty hands or fingernails! One of the smaller girls, Mary, had received a particularly nasty slap across the knuckles for having dirty nails the previous week.My turn came, and nurse Connelly carefully inspected my delicate; pale hands and my long fingers. Not a speck of dirt was found and I was deemed fit to enter the dining hall, where my breakfast of porridge and some thick slices of bread with margarine awaited.

I took a place at one of the long tables arranged symmetrically in the hall, next to Alexandra. She was a passionate girl, with dark-brown hair and chocolate brown eyes. I always pictured her in her late twenties, pregnant of her third child. She would make a great mother someday, I imagined.

She smiled as I sat down with my bowl of porridge, and we began to eat.

"Oi, Sophe, did you hear about Ann? She got beaten again for calling the Matron 'a stupid old cow'," Alexandra, or Alex as I called her, whispered to me.

"Again? Seriously," I answered wide-eyed, "I'm going to have to give that girl a prize for persistence or something! Everyones thinking it," I started,

"but Anns saying it!" Alex and I finished, grinning. Our spirits fell, however, as we thought of poor Ann, bruised and locked in the scullery.

I suppose you could say Alex was my best friend at St. Jude's. Making friends didn't come easily for me. Not for anyone here, actually, seeing as at the end of the day, you have to be rather selfish when youre this low on the social ladder.

I finished my slice of bread, drank my tea and stood up with the rest of the girls. We silently made our way back to the dormitories, where we got dressed. I grimaced as I put on the prickly, crisp, grey shirt. I hated those! They were made out of rough material, so you could say they were pretty uncomfortable. I hurried along with the next items of clothing: the tatty, knitted blue sweater and the matching black woollen skirt. And, for the finishing touch, the indispensable black woollen socks that I pulled up to just below my knees. I looked around and in my mind, I confirmed that this was most definitely not a very flattering ensemble.I was halfway through the dormitory when little Mary called out to me:

"Sophia, Sophia! You haven't got any shoes on! You'll get your socks dirty..."

"Oh, right," I replied, somewhat bemused. I really was quite the headless chicken.

I chuckled at my own forgetfulness, and tiptoed over to my bed to put on my shoes.

As I left the room, I went over to Mary and gave her an affectionate pat on the head.

"Thanks, Matron would've had my head if I'd walked in like that!"

She giggled and I was positively elated for a second there. That is, until I bumped into the Wicked Witch, who was undoubtedly just flying in to randomly punish us for offences like 'breathing too loud'.

"Ugh, watch it, you insolent little witch," she growled, followed by a cough-attack.

"Honestly, go see a doctor," I thought to myself.

But, what ho, she came bearing news! The woman was full of surprises.

"Haines, you stay put. There's a professor here to see you," she told me, in a tone that reeked of boredom and just a tinge of disgust.

"All others, get your good-for-nothing arses to the laundry rooms! And start washing or you'll wish your harlot mothers had chucked you in the bin!

The girls rushed out of the dormitory, followed by a very nasty-looking Mrs. Sullivan.

A bit wary - as is in my nature ever since I can remember - I watched as everyone departed, leaving me in the deserted dormitory. I wondered what this was all about, as I walked over to my bed, and sat on it. Mrs. Sullivan wasn't playing a mean trick on me, was she? Would she? Like a caged rat, I suddenly began to realise what was going on. Undoubtedly, that miserable hag had called someone, was he going to examine me? No, no... Then he would've been a doctor. Right? I mean, Jesus, even to her standards, that would be cruel. If it's not that, then what is it? "Maybe this professor persons going to adopt me?" I pondered out loud, unaware of another presence in the room. I looked up to find an old man standing beside the third bed next to mine.

"Good morning, Sophia."

"Uh, good...morning." I replied, hoping he hadn't heard me thinking aloud, and unsure of where to direct my gaze at. The man was multi-coloured, to say the least. And I don't mean his skin, I mean his clothes. What a sight to behold: the Professor was wearing a multicoloured, paisley print, two-piece suit and a purple bowtie. And to top it all off, he had the longest beard I'd EVER seen. Immediately the image of Santa Clause came into my mind, causing me to chuckle. Apparently Mr. Professor had noticed this, because he asked:

"Like the suit?"

"Actually, I do, Sir." I replied honestly. Beats my sodding orphanage uniform, I added in my head.

"Glad you like it, Sophia. Now, forgive me my lapse of good manners. My name is Albus Dumbledore. I won't tell you my full name, because we could be here a while still if I did," he said, with a pleasant smile on his lips. He seemed nice enough. Actually, I found him to be like a groovy old granddad.

"I'm Sophia Haines. Nice to meet you, Sir." I said. I approached him with an outstretched hand, and to my delight, he grinned and shook it.

"You must be wondering 'what is this old geezer doing here?'," he started, and I immediately opened my mouth to say that I didn't think of him as an old geezer, but yes, I was wondering what he was doing here. He lifted his hand, and continued,

"And I will answer your question.

I am here because you're special."

Uh-oh. Alarm bells went off in my head. "Special". That can't be good! Come on, I may be a little loopy, but I'm not completely round the bend, bonkers, or a lunatic - I swear!

"What do you mean by special, Sir? I can assure you I have no history of mental illness or anything of the sort. Can't certify that for my parents, though. Seeing as I never knew them, that would be kind of difficult to do. Unless they'd had it written down before they died, but I doubt that. I mean, who would do that, anyway? And aren't we all a little mad in our own way, Sir?"

"Sorry," I added, as soon as I realised I went a little overboard. It happens when I'm excited.

To my surprise, Mr. Dumbledore nice name, by the way, don't you think? only smiled and said

"Oh, don't apologise, dear girl. I should have specified."

He sat himself down on the bed beside me and began his 'specification':

"Well, the thing is, Sophia, I know this may come as a shock to you, but do try to accept it: you're a witch." He stated, without the slightest hint of hesitation in his voice. What in heaven's name was going on here? Was he taking the piss?

"Uh, Sir, with all do respect, if you came all the way from wherever you're from, just to call me names, well...then you can leave that up to Mrs. Sullivan. She's got that covered." I raised an eyebrow for good measure.

"Sophia, I'm afraid we might have a miscommunication on our hands. You're a witch, and it's not an insult. You're a real witch, with magical powers. You were enrolled in my school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, even before you were born. Seeing as the situation was a bit...peculiar, I've come to personally inform you. So, now I shall hand you your Hogwarts letter," to which he handed me a an ancient-looking envelope, " - Hogwarts is the school I mentioned and of course, I will help you, should you desire my assistance."

After a couple of minutes, when I didn't answer and just sat there looking completely confused, he suggested I open the letter.

"Go on," he nudged me.

I had to admit, it was pretty tempting.

I carefully opened the envelope, and read the letter it contained.

"Owl?" I asked aloud as soon as I'd read the letter.  
"Is it like the magical equivalent of 'sending your cat', or something?"

Frowning, I let all the facts run around in my mind. Dumbledore chuckled for a moment, and then reassured me that owls were used by the magical community to send letters and parcels and such, and that I needn't send one because he's the Headmaster so he already knows I'm coming.

"You are coming, aren't you, Sophia?" he asked me.

"Yes, of course! But how am I gonna get all this stuff?" I asked, looking over the list of necessary books and equipment.

"I have no money and I have no clue what store to go to."

Dumbledore smiled. Man, that guy sure smiles a lot!

"Yes, well, there's a solution for every problem. If you don't mind, I could have Hagrid, our keeper of keys and grounds at Hogwarts help you to purchase your equipment and such. Oh, and no need to worry about money, dear. We have scholarships at Hogwarts."

"I'd like that, thank you very much, Sir," I replied, poorly concealing my anticipation. All the while, I was hoping there would be a future for me at Hogwarts.


	3. What are Friends for?

**-3- What are Friends for?**

After that, things just rolled on, you could say. I met Hagrid, a loveable but very huge man - who I later found out was half giant - who guided me on my first trip into the magical world. Guided by Hagrid's enormous hand, I was taken to get my school books, supplies, robes and everything else I would need for my first year of magical education, at the school I knew nothing about.  
It pained me to have to keep all of this a secret from Alex, but it couldn't be helped, I supposed, so I shrugged it off. Or tried to, anyway.

When the time came to board the fiery red train that would take me to my destiny, and away from my hardships, I was a little petrified, and more than nervous. All wizards and witches on the platform seemed to...normal. I had expected them to be more peculiar, more magical. But hey, you can't just go around screaming "I CAN DO MAGIC! OH YEAH, OH YEAH!", can you? No, you can't. The one thing that did worry me though, was that the girls all looked so confident, so cool and most of all: so happy. And to think I was worried about not having an owl! These girls had it all.

But, I was here now, I had made it this far. There was no going back now. I got on the train and looked back out onto the platform. There was no one there for me. No one to make sure I hadn't forgotten my pet, my socks... No one at all. It's at times like these when I missed having parents the most. But that thought was soon replaced with the search of an empty compartment. I found one, sat myself down by the window, and pondered the road I had gone down. Was this really what I wanted? Did I want to live this life between two worlds - not quite fitting in the muggle world and now the same with the magical one? Whatever the answer was, I was convinced that time would tell, and that I would at least get to turn people into toads, so it wouldn't all be for nothing. So, really, I was happy that Professor Dumbledore came to see me that day. What happened was, I'm guessing, a magical intervention. A miracle, in the form of an old man with half moon-shaped spectacles and a very long white beard. There was something so wonderfully quaint about that man, sorry, wizard. Something that I couldn't quite place in my little mind back then. And even though I didn't always realise it, he would be the closest I would ever have to a father-figure...

Shifting back to my present, I smiled to myself. What a long way I've come, from the naive little girl I used to be. I've grown up. Well, at least physically! I wasn't particularly busty though, and I hated girls who were and who'd think they were better because of it. Like you can even choose these things! I was happy with my body, though. At 5"5', I wasn't the tallest, but it suited me. Freckly face, electrifying blue eyes and dark hair to hide it all under; some of the things that made me. I was happy not to stand out.

In hinsight, I was happy with the way things had turned out. I had friends, I was a proud Gryffindor (probably thanks to my...temperament) and I was doing good in school. Somehow, there was something about the library that made me want to read every single book in it! Even the really gruesome ones. What could make it more appealing than the fact that it's forbidden? I don't know about you guys, but, occasionally, I like to take a walk on the wild side. Looking back on it now, I can still remember how daunting the sorting ceremony was. As I walked up to the most petrifying hat I'd ever seen, I felt a pair of eyes on me - analysing me and looking into my soul. It felt like someone was peering into my mind...

I was abruptly torn out of my thoughts when someone opened the door to my compartment and plopped down next to me. It was none other than Catherine Wylde, one of my two friends at Hogwarts.

"Hey Soph! Had a good summer?" she asked, as she patted me on the knee. Soon, my other partner in crime would arrive and we'd be chatting away about our summers.

"Well, same as always, I suppose. Sullivan's still bonkers... Alex is doing good." I paused. "She told me she was having a baby before I left."

"Wow. Heavy stuff," she said, wide-eyed, her mouth gaping. I wasn't even sure if it was good or bad news. I mean, growing up in an orphanage isn't ideal to begin with, but to get pregnant... We had a 12-hour work day at St. Jude's, which was hard enough as it is _without_ being pregnant.

"Yeah, I know." I sighed. "I'm going to support her no matter what, though. I always imagined her with lots of children, but I didn't think she'd start so soon..." I trailed off.

"Yeah, but she's a smart girl, right? She'll be alright, she's got you and her mum! Besides, any friend of yours is a friend of mine - and Emma's." She smiled, and in that moment, I was so grateful.

"Who's the father? Did she tell you?" she asked, putting her arm around me.

Truth is, that I didn't really want to know. I'd only want to strangle that person for ruining the future of a person who meant so much to me. My heart flooded with sympathy for Alex. Somehow, I was going to get her through this.

"No, she didn't say. And I'm really not all that interested in knowing who messed up her future, honestly," I said, rather grimly.

"Myeah, but just tell me if you want him crucio'd or something," she winked at me. Merlin, I love her comments!

"Anyway, how was your summer, hun? And where's Emma by the way?" I asked, realising Em still hadn't showed up.

"Well, not to rain on your parade or anything," (I laughed as she said this - silly girl) "but my summer was pretty good." She smiled. I was happy for her, really. Mrs. Sullivan didn't allow us to visit friends or vice versa, and sending or receiving owls was also out of the question, so we had to wait until we were on the train before we could see and talk to each other again. But you know what they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder! And in my case, the longer I was away from my friends and Hogwarts, the more I ached to be back.

Just as Cat was about to answer my second question, Emma fluttered in, smiling broadly.

"You guys!"

Now, we were complete. I was enveloped in a group hug. "Ugh! You're squishing me! Going... to be sick!" I managed to get out. They let me go immediately. Threatening to be sick always did the trick!  
Emma went back to sit across from me, and took out this week's Teen Witch Weekly.

"Merlin, are you addicted, or what?" I mocked. Emma raised an eyebrow.

"Duh!" Cat joined in, causing Emma to poke out her tongue at the both of us. All three of us started giggling. Emma always had to stay up-to-date on the latest fashion trends, and ways to do your hair, and whatnot. I, for one, wasn't very bothered with it all. I mean, Emma _does_ always look good, but... I don't know, it's not like I have someone to look good _for_.

"Soooo, you guys fancy anyone?" Cat asked hyperactively.

"Of course," replied Emma immediately, like it was obvious.

"Yeah, but when don't you have a crush on some hot guy you barely even know?" I rolled my eyes, grinning. She is absolutely boy-crazy!

"Pfsh! So? You should try it some time, it's nice..."

"What's nice? Exchanging saliva with someone? Yes, I'm sure it's lovely." I replied sarcastically.

"Oh come on, Soph, don't you want a boyfriend?" Cat asked, sounding serious for once. I could tell she wanted one, and me and Em both knew who... Blaise Zabini, a Slytherin from our year (7th now). I mean, really! Who would fall for a Slytherin, other than Cat? It was so typical, yet I admired her courage. It wasn't going to be easy, even if he _did_ like her, which we didn't know - yet.

"No!" I replied, indignant, but they weren't buying it.

"Oh, well, maybe." There was one boy I liked, but he would never be interested in someone like me. You can say it sounds cliché, and it probably does. Somehow, they felt my dissapointment.

"Oh come on, sugarplum, it can't be that bad," they tried to cheer me up.

"But it is. He'll never see me, not for who I really am anyway. I mean, I never get to show the real me. Besides, look at me! I look a mess, he would never want to go out with a girl like me. And it isn't like he'd be thrilled to hear about my background. Or did you forget: I'm a bloody orphan!" Now I just felt bad. I didn't mean to sound so crude, they were only trying to help.

"I'm sorry guys, I didn't mean it like that. You **know** how much I like him, and how much I would love for him to even notice me, but right now, it doesn't look like it's ever going to happen," I apologised.  
Emma grabbed my hand. For a moment things were silent. Then, out of nowhere, Emma glanced across the table to her Teen Witch Weekly, grabbed it and forcibly waved it around.

"CAT, SOPH! Get ready to be amazed by my genius!" she said, about as enthusiastic as I'd ever seen her. She was beaming.

"What is it?" Cat asked quizically, looking from me to Em, and back.

"Oooooooooooooooh," she said, apparently understanding Emma's weirdness. What are they thinking? Whatever it was, I was dreading it already...

"Erm, whatever it is, it better not involve me," I warned, getting a bit scared. They both sat on the edges of their seat, looked at each other and then back to me.

"We...are going to give you...A MAKE-OVER!" they squealed happily.

Oh Merlin, I was really in for it now.


	4. Picture not so Perfect

**-4- Picture not so ****Perfect  
**

"Oh Merlin," Cat said, her right hand clasped over her mouth.

"We need to do some serious shopping, STAT!"

"It's not that bad, is it?" I asked, looking questioningly over to Cat, who was digging through my trunk. Admittedly, I didn't have a lot of clothes, and they weren't very stylish, but clothes were clothes.

"It is," Emma nodded in confirmation."Witch Weekly says clothes and make-up are the key factors that decide wether a boy will ask you out or not," she informed us.

"A-ha," I said. I really couldn't be arsed to get up every morning and do my hair and make-up - not a morning person - but if I wanted a chance with the boy I had liked since first year, I was going to have to suck it up and do as they told me - which right now, was a shopping spree in Hogsmeade.

Since it was only our first day back, we had to wait until the upcoming Saturday to go to Hogsmeade. Of course, they could hardly wait, while I was feeling sicker every day.  
The week passed by rather normally, without any special events. Friday evening, we went to sit down for dinner in the great hall. Emma flirted away with all the boys, as usual, and Cat only had eyes for Blaise - who, I found to my her and my dismay, was sitting next to some random Slytherin girl.

"Huuu, I really don't get what he could possible see in her," Cat moaned. "He's so intelligent, and clever and tall, not to mention incredibly handsome..." She slumped her shoulders.

I made a mental note to set her up with Zabini before the end of the year, no matter what. Even if it kills me, he WILL fall for her! Fear the evil wrath of the best friend.  
Anyway, so the week was pretty uneventful.

"What's with Snape again? Does he get a kick out of giving you detention? Really, it's starting to frighten me," Emma spoke, inbetween her mashed potatoes and her steak and kidney pie.

"You? What about me, I have to actually go and sit in his dank, gloomy office for detention at least once a month! And for what?" I protested.  
That Snape was gruelling. He ALWAYS found a reason to give me detention! That prejudiced, foul git! If there was anyone in this world who I really didn't like - after the Wicked Witch of course - then it'd have to be him.

"For being one second late, for blowing your nose, for...what was it this time? Mistreating your crushed dungbeetles?" Cat chimed in.

"Yeah! Come on, man! They're already dead, for Merlin's sake!" I shook my head. It wasn't fair, not one bit.

After dinner, we went up to our rooms, completely exhausted, but happy - for tomorrow would be Saturday.

"Sophia," a woman's voice sounded in my head. She sounded tired, near deadly exhausted even. "Her name...is...Sophia." And then the voice dissapeared.

"SOPHIA!"

"Huh? What?" I jumped upright. "Merlin, you guys scared me," I said sleepily.

"We couldn't get you to wake up. You were talking in your sleep again," Cat said quietly.

"Oh." I said, averting their concerned eyes.

Emma clapped her hands."Well, time to get ready for Hogsmeade! Are you excited? I'm excited!" She darted away to the common room.

"I'll just go and chat with Seamus while you guys get ready," we heard her shout from the stairs.

Cat and I rolled our eyes and I got up to get ready. I made my bed first - old habits die hard, eh - and then got my toiletries and headed for the bathroom. I turned on the tap and checked the temperature. Just right. I got in and took a nice, refreshing shower. After I was done, I dried myself with a towel and, with the towel wrapped around me, headed back to our dormitory.

"You nearly done yet? You don't want to go shopping with Emma on an empty stomach! Chop chop," Cat rushed me. Like I said, I am not a morning person.

I dried my hair with a flick of my wand and proceeded to get dressed. What? Once you've spent six years with the same girls in one dormitory, you're hardly embarrassed to show some skin, honestly. Nonetheless, I hurried along and put on my underwear, a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a hooded sweatshirt. I finished by putting socks on and a pair of worn-out trainers.

"All set!" I exclaimed and we headed down to the common room, where we saw Emma sitting rather close to Seamus Finnigan.

"Ready, Em? I'm starving," Cat said.  
"Yeah, let's go," she replied.  
Chatting happily we went down to the great hall for breakfast. Upon arrival, we sat down and dug in. I helped myself to some toast with chocolate sprinkles, while Cat had some bacon with eggs and Emma started on a bowl of oatmeal.

"I'm really nervous," I said with the corners of my mouth full of chocolate.

"That's normal. You'll be fine, really! Tfhust ush," Em replied with her mouth full of oatmeal, splattering it everywhere.

"You're telling me trust someone with their mouth full of oatmeal? Merlin, help me." I said dramatically.We started giggling. After we were done eating and drinking our tea, we heard McGonagall speak.

"All students who are going to Hogsmeade, gather in the courtyard in five minutes." she said calmly.

So we got up and went upstairs to get our money because we'd forgotten to do so before. After making sure I'd shrunken my savings and put them in my pocket, we were ready to go. I actually had some money saved up, for emergencies. I really wasn't sure I should be spending it now. I might need it after graduation, when I'm free to leave St. Jude's... But I convinced myself things were going to be better once I got my act together, and this was just one step towards getting there. Silently, we made our way to the courtyard, where we saw all the other students carelessly chatting and standing around. We joined them and soon we were on our way to Hogsmeade in the horse-drawn carriages. I could see the horses, but it didn't bother me. They were just magical creatures. Okay, they had a negative connotation, but it's not because you saw someone die that these creatures are somehow to be held responsible for that. Or at least I thought. Sometimes, I even petted them, which would of course freak Em and Cat out. This would in turn amuse me even more!

Once we arrived, we got out of the carriages and I looked around a little lost.  
"Where to, maestro?" I asked Em, our resident fashion expert.

"To Lune Boutique, of course," Emma exclaimed, and grabbed both our hands."Come on!" And off we were.

We entered the shop. I looked around, feeling a bit out of place. I'd never actually been in a clothing boutique before. Well, I had, but not for me. Usually it's either Em or Cat who "needs" clothes. Mostly Em, of course.

"Ok, first of all, we need to get you some tops." She started flicking through all the different clothes on the racks, occasionally thrusting a top or t-shirt in my hands. I figured I was going to be forced to try those on later on...

"Aaaand...some jeans. Cat, would you go across the street and find her some shoes? You know, summer shoes, winter shoes, heels, the works!" She casually walked over to the stacks of jeans in the middle of the store, while Cat nodded, smiled and left the store - on a mission to find me shoes. Obviously, Emma knew her way around this store, which wasn't very surprising. After about half an hour of me following Emma around the store and getting stuff piled on top of me (after a while I almost couldn't see anymore), Emma finally thought that that should be enough "to start off".

"To start off? This is more than my whole wardrobe already!" I protested. But, to no avail.  
"Sooophe," she said, as if talking to a total noob, "who says everything's going to fit? It takes some mixing and matching, but we'll get there eventually!" she said, pushing me into a fitting booth.  
"Now try EVERYTHING on!" she ordered from outside the booth.

"Oh dear," I muttered to no one in particular.I came out wearing a different outfit about a thousand times. Emma would either squeal in delight, frown, or just tell me to "get the hell out of those trousers". Halfway through my pile of clothes to fit, Cat sauntered in, carrying some bags. I was really curious what she'd bought me, but knowing Cat, I was sure whatever she got was pretty and inexpensive. She has a knack for finding the good stuff.

"Hey girls! I got you some really nice shoes, Sophe. Hah, I'm so good... The store clerk was hitting on me, so I kind of led him on and got a 20 discount," she boasted, winking at us. Told you.

"Cat, you are so evil!" We all snorted with laughter. I usually scolded her for playing around with people, though. But, I figured I could let her off the hook this time.  
After what felt like hours, we ended up hauling a whole bunch of clothes to the cash register. I paid for my stuff and we exited the shop, exhausted but pleased.

"We've got about 45 minutes left before we have to head back, fancy getting some butterbeers in the Three Broomsticks?" I asked.

"Definitely! I think we've earned it!" Emma nodded.  
"Aww. Of course you've earned it. Let's go," I said patting her on the head, and we went on our way.  
Cat pushed the door open and let us through, which wasn't too easy, considering all the heavy shopping bags we were carrying! I made a mental note to shrink all of them before we had to go back, and sat down next to Em and Cat at a table for six. "Are there no other tables available?" I asked while looking around."No, apparently not," Emma answered. She shrugged her shoulders.

"I'll go get us drinks," I offered, and stood up to order our butterbeers. Obviously, I owed them big time!I walked over to the bar and observed all of the other Hogwarts students sitting at tables. It was a nice place to have a drink, so we always went here, instead of that dodgy other place. I reached the bar and the bartender looked up at me expectantly.

"Three butterbeers, please." I asked politely and gave a small smile.

"Comin' right up, little miss," he said and placed three uncorked butterbeers on the counter.

"That'll be three sickles, please."

I handed him the money, took the bottles and started on my way towards our table. I was just thinking of how my crush would react to seeing me, when I saw two figures sitting in the empty seats at our table. I thought my eyes were deceiving me. When I got a little closer, I saw that they weren't, and that it was in fact Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang (who else) sitting at the end of our table.What were THEY doing here together? What was HE doing here with HER? Looking over to Em and Cat, I could see them giving me sympathetic looks. I was totally shocked and tried hard not to drop the bottles I was holding. I went over to Cat, put the bottles on the table and sat down again. They each gave me a sickle, which I pocketed. At the moment, I was just staring blankly in front of me, trying to pretend that I didn't see what I think I saw.

"Am I hallucinating?" I tried hopefully. No such luck.

"No, sugarplum, I'm afraid not," Em said, feeling sorry for me."They came while you were at the counter, asked if they could sit here because all the other tables were full and the tea salon was packed as well," Cat whispered so they wouldn't hear us. Cat rolled her eyes as she mentioned the tea salon, which is were all the lovey-dovey couples go to hold hands, sip tea, suck each other's faces off and whatnot.  
They were sitting pretty close to us, so we had to be quiet and unsuspicious. Two things my friends and I are not very good at! Especially now... The jerk. The floozy.

"Oh." I sighed, head down. Somehow, disappointment was unevitable. Feeling sick all of a sudden, all I wanted to do was go to my dorm and curl up in my bed.

"Don't worry. After we make you look all fabulous and even prettier, he'll be sorry," Em whispered.

What we didn't know was that Cedric had been trying to listen in the entire time and had heard what Emma said.

"D'you guys wanna get going? It's almost time..." I said dejectedly. It was ruined now, anyway.Suddenly, I panicked.  
"Oh Merlin! Where are my bags? They must've been stolen! They're not here!" This was not something I needed right now!"Relax! Sophe! We shrunk your bags already, while you were getting our drinks. Calm down," they said while patting me on the back.

"Sorry," I mumbled, hating myself for being so stupid. How could I ever believe he would even do so much as look at me. This was all just a bloody waste!  
They put their arms around my shoulder, each from another side, and led me to a carriage.

This was not supposed to happen. I was supposed to be all fabulous and beautiful and he was supposed to think "wow, she looks like someone I would date!". Then, we'd date for a couple of years and get married. Of course, we'd have lots of cute little quidditch-playing babies. With his beautiful features. And my...ears. That's how it was supposed to go! Or, well, something along those lines. I let out a heavy sigh and closed my eyes for a moment. I wasn't stupid, I realised that even if we did get together, we might not last. But hey, 17-year-old girls can fantasize, right?

I frowned when the carriage suddenly moved. Were we moving? We couldn't be, or I would've heard the horses' hooves clatter against the cobblestones. My eyes opened and I sat face to face with my worst nightmare and my most beautiful dream.  
It was THEM again! Ugh, honestly, out of all the carriages, they had to step into this one! Thanks a bunch, fate! I hate you, I hope you know that. I tried to imagine fate's reaction to my revelation, to keep my mind off the fact that Cedric "chiselled face" Diggory was sitting opposite me. And also, to keep me from pouncing on Floozy Chang and wringing her neck. I looked to my sides for support and distraction when my imagination wasn't enough to keep me from looking at him, but found that Emma and Catherine were snoozing.

Damn them! Throw me in the lion pit, why don't you?!

**  
Cedric's POV:**

"Cedric, let's go find a carriage," I heard Cho say in her thick Scottish accent - which I do NOT find cute, by the way.

I wasn't really listening though, I was already looking for one specific carriage...I kept my eyes fixed on my target.  
"Hey Cho, come on," I said and dragged her off to the carriage I had my eyes on. Luckily, it was the right one, but then again, I'm Cedric Diggory. I never let my eyes off the prize!

Cho didn't look very happy and I snickered to myself. The sight that greeted me when I sat down was bliss. The sweetest angel, with the most beautiful name. Finding it hard to catch my breath for a moment, I tried hard not to stare. I had to muster up every ounce of self-restraint not to reach out and stroke the side of her face. I felt the carriage starting to move."Shouldn't take us long before we're back," Cho said cheerfully, obviously glad she didn't have to spend long with these three "weirdo's" in a carriage. For me, it was just what I was dreading... I pushed the thought to the back of my mind. For now, I was happy just being close to an angel.

To Sophia.


	5. Author's note, please read

**Author's note:**

Sorry to disappoint you all, this isn't a new chapter. I just wanted to post this up to let you guys know that I am working on the next chapter right now, and **it will be coming out soon**. Words can't express how sorry I am that I let it drag on like this without giving a heads up. I'm truly, truly sorry. I would've abandoned this fic completely if there weren't still people out there reading and wanting more chapters. So, I'll try to finish this story for you guys. :) I've got some ideas and stuff, so wait and see! Thanks so much for sticking with the story! Hugs and a happy New Year to you all!

- Lene


	6. Mission Success?

**Author's Note:**

Okay, so... First of all, I owe everyone a HUGE apology. This new chapter is way overdue; I don't even know how to say I'm sorry, not in a way that covers it all. I mean, damn… Some readers have commented recently and only then did I realize, "hey, I wrote a story on almost four years ago about Cedric Diggory, who I don't even like that much as a character." Now that I reread it (thank god I'm not 17 anymore), it does seem a little clichéd and whatnot, but I'll try to fix that—_after_ I get this new chapter out, of course. :) This is for you guys, because I know how annoying it is when you read some chapters of a story you like, only to find out it was never finished and the author has vanished off the face of the earth. Ahem… So that's why. I don't feel that connected to the story anymore, but maybe that'll change. I'll try to finish it at the very least so you guys have an ending. That said, JKR is the goddess of seemingly effortless flow and plot development, so it's not going to be anywhere near as good, but I'll do my best. Previous chapters will be rewritten over the course of the next, say, 2-3 weeks? So I don't die of shame every time someone stumbles on my pubescent drivel. :)

I will also humbly ask you guys to let me know what you think, so please do help me out. Do you want to keep chapters 1-4 the way they are, with just some minor adjustments in terms of style and grammar, or do you want me to rewrite the entire thing? Right now it strikes me as a lame teen chick flick, honestly—which I love, but they're still lame. It would also fix some of the serious plot holes.  
Oh, and since finals are coming up soon (too soon), I will try my very best to update more frequently, but I can't give you any regular schedule, I'm sorry. Anyway, here it is, three years late. *cringe* 

**Chapter Five: Mission…Success?  
**

"This doesn't look very promising," the three friends thought to themselves as they followed the path leading up to the Hogwarts gates. This whole situation was rapidly getting out of hand.

Catherine blamed it on that Diggory character; Emma was more prudent with her appropriation of blame. Still, both girls felt strongly about this. Their friend deserved a break, and she was going get one.

Sophia just wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear. There had to be a shrinking spell for humans out there. Yeah, a shrinking spell or a spell that turns you into a leprechaun or something.

"Can girls turn into leprechauns?" she wondered aloud. Catherine and Emma looked at each other like she had just sprouted another head. Sometimes it was so hard to refrain from checking whether her head was on right. A collective sigh was heard in the chilly September air, but they marched on, determined not to give up on their plan just yet.

"So, what are you going to wear when we get back up to the common room?" Emma asked to diffuse some of the tension. "Maybe that cute dark blue cable-knit jumper?" she added with a look over to Sophia and a small smile. Her friend was just too serious sometimes.

Sophia twisted her mouth off to the side in thought, considering her options as they walked.

"Yeah, that jumper is cute. I don't know." She looked down at herself as they finally neared the castle doors. "I still can't see what's wrong with what I have on."

Sophia plucked at the dark hoodie she had on and shrugged. _Why can't he accept me the way I am now?_ The question she really wanted to ask but was never going to. The answer would undoubtedly be one she didn't like, so why bother? She felt like a hypocrite—a big, sodding hypocrite. If she was all about emotional depth and intelligence and Gryffindor values, then why was she trying to change herself—even such a small aspect of herself—in order to please someone who obviously didn't know she existed? Sophia kept her eyes fixed on the cold, hard stairs as they climbed them, one by one, lest she give in to the melancholy fighting its way to the surface.

They'd reached the Fat Lady's portrait, and Emma turned to Sophia, her gaze softening visibly. Why did Sophia always have to be so hard on herself, she sighed internally. "I think you look just fine, but it's not about that. You could look so much better if you put in a little effort. _That_'s what this is all about." Emma spoke the password and elegantly climbed through the portrait hole, a feat Sophia hadn't quite managed yet. Well, she thought, at least I don't launch myself through there like an intercontinental ballistic missile on crack anymore. Not that her friends knew what any of that meant. Still, she decided, it was an improvement.

"Besides," Catherine piped up, "it's just so he gets shocked into action, so to speak." She nodded matter-of-factly—she _knew_ about these things. Catherine pursed her mouth. "_Also_, an oversized t-shirt, shorts, a pair of leggings and a hoodie big enough to fit Millicent Bulstrode does _not_ constitute an outfit. And you're not going to tell me that that _thing_ you call a hoodie is women's wear, because I'm not buying it—literally."

Sophia looked down guiltily, mostly to hide her grin.

"Now, go change." She playfully pushed Sophia towards the stairs leading up to the dormitories. "We'll wait downstairs." She motioned to Emma with a nod of the head and together, they left.

Emma plopped down in the nearest armchair while Catherine just stretched out over an entire sofa. Catherine yawned. "Ten sickles says I'm going to have to go back up there to sort out whatever fashion fiasco that's undoubtedly about to unfold," she joked, eyes falling shut and mouth curving upwards. Emma snorted and grabbed her copy of 'Magical Beasts and where to Find them' from a nearby table. They were going to be a while.

Back in the room, Sophia was already frantically rifling through her bags (which were now back to their normal size), looking for the perfect outfit.

"Screw it." She took the bags and held them upside down one by one, dumping the contents on her four-poster bed. She debated for a minute going 'eeny meeny miny mo', but… No, she was going to do this the right way. Come on, how hard could it be? She picked up a light gray-beige wool-blend cardigan that was only slightly too light for the time of year—damn you, Scotland— and a white sailor-type top with brown horizontal stripes. She'd already pulled on a nice pair of nicely fitting, regular dark-wash jeans, so to finish off the outfit she just put on some socks and her new brown leather lace-up ankle boots. It would have to do. But what about make-up? Was she supposed to wear some? She didn't think she owned any…

Catherine's nap was rudely interrupted when suddenly, there came a scream—she would later describe it as the shriek of a banshee, but that's not important right now. "EMMA! CAT! HELP!"

So they did. Eyebrows were tweezed, mascara and pretty pink lip balm applied. It was show time.

"Will you -_stop-___fidgeting?"

Emma resisted the snort that exclamation from Catherine brought on. _So snappy_, she thought.

_And so darn entertaining._

The three of them were on their way to the courtyard closest to the entrance hall, where most of the students liked to hang out—even the Slytherins. Not that mattered to her. Except, it did, for some reason. The courtyard had trees, and grass, and benches, and just enough shrubbery and flowers that there was a little bit of the anonymity students so desired when interacting with each other (no, that was not a euphemism), but not so much that Hogwarts professors could not oversee the area. It was also where Cedric and his merry band of admirers could usually be found—undoubtedly busy admiring Cedric and his perfect facial structure.

Emma wanted this for her friend. She did. However, that didn't mean she had to actually _like_ the self-important prick. She happened to think Sophia could do better, but what was the use? She knew people—even her two best friends—thought of her as perpetually kind and accepting. She was, but she had no patience for people who didn't extend the same courtesies to others, especially if they thought they were superior. She filed away her concerns and focused on making this happen for Sophia. She _was_ kind, to people who deserved it. And there was no one she knew that deserved a little happiness more than Sophia.

Her heart was thumping almost in time with the soft yet sturdy click-clacking of her heeled boots on the flagstones—a sound that made her question the reality of what was before her. Was she really going to go through with this? Sophia's gaze darted to her sides, and she drew in a shaky breath. She could do whatever she had to do. If she could make it out of St. Jude's and make it through every summer at a different foster _situation_, she could do this, too. And she had her friends to _Reparo_ the parts of her she would surely feel break if he dismissed her. She hoped it wouldn't have to come to that, though, as she stepped out onto the courtyard flanked by Emma and Catherine. She took a deep breath and lowered her shoulders, despite the autumn air chilling the tip of her nose, her cheeks, and her hands. She'd been allowed her Gryffindor scarf, at least, to keep her neck nice and warm ("And it will give him clues, Sophia!" Emma had stated). One glance from Cedric Diggory, she thought, and she was sure never to need any such thing ever again.

They neared the bench Cedric was sitting on, surrounded by his posse of sycophants. Sophia really felt they were. They didn't seem like true friends to her at all. Cedric deserved friends who were true to him, who talked to him and with him, not _about him_. As much as she was likely to agree with them that Cedric was lovely and had an exquisitely handsome face, and intelligence and charisma to boot, she didn't think anyone needed to have it constantly repeated to their face. From the way he was sitting there, one leg crossed over the other—something she would have simply found poncy before—he seemed to agree with her. He didn't _look_ entertained. He had a dazed expression on his face, like he was bored but wasn't sure what else to do.

She walked about as far as she felt she could go. What if he said something mean? No, he wouldn't. He'd say something nice but still dismissing, at the most. At least dismissal was something she was used to, she thought, walking up to Cedric and his posse.

One of his "friends", she noticed, was talking to him—something about Cedric's marks on the latest Charms essay—and she almost turned back right then. Oh, Merlin. She was going to faint, she knew it. She stepped up to him anyway. Her friends were putting holes in her back with their concentrated gazes, as if they could make her move faster.

Her mouth opened first, but no sound would come out, and when it did, it tumbled out of her mouth in stutters that horrified her.

"… a-a- H.. Hi." She finished lamely, holding up a tentative hand in greeting.

Sophia snapped out of her trance just in time to catch the remark one of Cedric's friends made to him. Oh, so she was a smitten fan, was she? Not bloody likely. The vision in her head about how things _might_ have gone quickly evaporated, unlike her opinion of Cedric's "friends". Thinking about it would only be jinxing her, she decided, as it involved her stuttering like Neville Longbottom, a boy in their year, when faced with Professor Snape. Worst-case scenario, indeed.

She tilted up her chin and raised a defiant eyebrow at the originator of the statement. He would learn not to mess with her. She hadn't _really_ expected to just get this thrown in her lap, anyways. Nothing ever was, she thought grimly.

So she stepped closer with a confidence she hadn't felt recently, but needed to display—unwittingly provided by unnamed Hufflepuf sycophant, if only he knew. Cedric had been dazedly looking at his hands (she tried not to take offense to that), but he looked up now, and she reveled in the locking of their eyes. He had such electrifying grey eyes.

"Cedric. Hi." She made sure to smile, too, and hoped it didn't look too forced or nervous.

Cedric's mouth was open. He knew it was because, well, it was _his_ mouth, and because there was no other possible way to respond to what had just happened. This girl was…bold, that much was certain. He was used to girls approaching him in all sorts of ways at all times—often inconvenient times, he added with an inward grumble—but he wasn't used to them doing it so straightforwardly. Cedric quickly assessed her appearance and gleaned that she was in Gryffindor—wow, Cedric, no wonder you're a Prefect, he scathingly told himself—and that he hadn't seen her before. Not that he remembered. Must be in a lower year. He nodded to himself and looked up to meet her eyes again. He was used to doing this so swiftly and imperceptibly that he was sure she hadn't even noticed his eyes wandering.

"Hello," he stated calmly. He had to admit he was slightly curious, but he'd been so weary lately that it hardly mattered to him now. She could be here to ask for a favor, for tutoring in one of the subjects he was good at… She didn't have to fancy him to come up to him, he told himself. Still, he was starting to think girls couldn't just have normal conversations with him, not without drooling all over themselves anyway. He didn't _ask_ for the attention! Cedric had gotten himself so worked up, another thing he tended to do lately, that his face had hardened without him noticing it, and he turned away from the girl to face his friends. He was tired of being what everyone wanted him to be. He was so_ tired_. Surely, even Cedric Diggory had a right to be exhausted.

And in her life, so it went.

The nameless follower from before gave her a small triumphant smirk before engaging Cedric in another conversation. Undoubtedly about how god-like he was. And Sophia? She just stood there, eyes wide and disillusioned. She turned and ran, ran all the way across the courtyard, past her friends (who were surely giving her worried looks), uncaring of the sound her heels made, and unable to stop the stinging behind her eyes.

They found her in the common room. They figured she'd be in her bed with the curtains drawn and spelled shut, but she was a smart girl. She knew she had to face them one day. And, Emma noted as she approached Sophia's hunched form at one of the desks, she had decided to drown her sorrows in…Potions homework. This was even more serious than she could have suspected. Normally one of them would joke about it, and they would all laugh, but not this time.

"Hey," she said softly, laying a hand on Sophia's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

It was a stupid question, she knew that before she even uttered it, but Sophia's obvious pain was getting to her. But they'd help her get past this, they always did.

"I'm fine, you guys go ahead to the Great Hall." Sophia even attempted a smile, but it just came out broken. Done for their benefit, she knew, but she hoped she'd never have to see that twisted, sad smile on Sophia's beautiful face again. She glanced at Catherine but Catherine just shrugged with a sympathetic expression on her face she knew was mirrored on her own. They left quietly, giving her the quiet space to think she needed. If they pressed her now, she'd only shut down and refuse to talk about it.

Her bed was comfy, it was soft. It was a safe haven, an escape. Yet it could not console her, or hug her. Sophia frowned and closed her eyes sadly. She was steadfastly ignoring the prickling behind her eyelids. She'd become good at that, she thought. Too good, perhaps. Memories of St. Jude's and the friends she'd loved and lost came to her mind, and she refused to let them consume her.

With all the scars and cuts on her soul, how could something so stupid still make her want to cry? She had to have better control of her emotions. She just had to. She had promised herself she wouldn't let herself be hurt by people who didn't even care about her, didn't care that they had the power to tear her heart to pieces.

A shuddering breath left her, and she stretched out her arms above her in a vulnerable gesture that usually made her skin prickle and made her want to curl in on herself.

There were times when he'd been kind to her, she told herself. She wasn't stupid; she wouldn't have pursued him otherwise. She remembered, because if there was one thing she was good at, besides keeping herself from crying, it was remembering.

There were scattered moments here and there when he gave her the time of day, sent a glance her way, accidentally touched her hand. Suddenly, she felt sick. Stupid, is what she was. Stupid and gullible, just like Matron Sullivan had said. But there was something else, and it was the memory she used when she practiced conjuring her Patronus. She'd almost succeeded in producing a corporeal Patronus, and she was only a fourth year student! Of course, Harry Potter had done it in their third year, but that was Harry Potter.

_If I had parents, they'd be _so_ proud. _

She stopped herself from laughing, and swallowed thickly. Her throat was dry, but she'd made her decision to skip dinner and she wouldn't go back on it now. She'd gone without meals plenty of times before. Thinking back on the memory hurt more than she cared to acknowledge, so she only let herself go over it briefly in her mind.

They'd barely been at Hogwarts a week. Sophia's mind was a whirlwind of excitement, of discovery and of magic. She was so happy she'd been given the chance to leave St. Jude's to come here, even if she had to live with a bunch of strangers during the summer. The euphoria had carried her into a conversation with someone she hadn't talked to before—something she didn't usually do. They'd gotten talking in the Charms corridor, though she couldn't remember how it had happened. He had told her he was a third year, and that alone had impressed her a little, though she'd only admitted it to herself grudgingly. He'd also mentioned he was a Hufflepuff, but she didn't really know enough about Hogwarts to see how or why that mattered at all. The conversation drifted to a boy she was apparently supposed to have heard of: Cedric Diggory.  
_"Am I supposed to know him?" _ The question had mirrored her confusion. Yes, the older boy had told her, with a surprised expression on his pale face. Yes, everyone knew Cedric Diggory. He was smart and handsome and knew magic well beyond the grasp of a third-year! He'd tilted his head as he said this, as if he wanted to gauge her reaction, as if he didn't really believe her answer. She'd raised one delicate eyebrow and told the boy this Diggory's last name sounded like a Pokémon—upon which he looked at her like she'd sprouted a second pair of eyes—and that she'd have to see this for herself. This Cedric guy sounded like a right prat.  
"_You're alright though," _she'd told the boy with a smile. _"For a Hufflepuff."_ She added jokingly, even though she still had no clue why Hufflepuff was supposed to be a lesser house.

The boy had the most captivating grey eyes she had ever seen, and they lit up to make them impossibly more beautiful when he laughed unabashedly at her joke.


End file.
